Who?
by Guardian of the crest
Summary: They called me "The World's Greatest Detective". Maybe that's why I can't help but try to understand what happened, why I can't sleep at night...  Spoliers inside, and plenty of angst.


Gotc: So there will most likely be those of you a little upset with me for posting this instead of Quarantine, but I couldn't help it. It was a moment of inspiration as I was working on the next chapter that came about while I was working through some writer's block. Wrong fic, but hey, I'm not going to complain. I will also apologize in advance; I had to take philosophy this semester and there's an excellent chance some of that has rubbed off on this fic.

As you all could tell from the summary, this fic is set AU(kinda) in the Lord's universe. It is set just before the events of "A Better World" so keep that in mind, be wary of spoilers, and enjoy the read!

Discalimer: I don't own Justice League.

**Warning: **I made this sad. If you're looking for a feel good fic, I suggest something with kittens.

* * *

_Who?_

We used to be unstoppable. Now we can't even stop ourselves.

I fit the pieces into place, but the questions still roll around in my head. That kind of training just sticks with you. After all, they used to call me "The World's Greatest Detective". Maybe that's why I can't help but try to understand what happened, why I can't sleep at night. It's a case I haven't solved. That's not something that sits well on my mind. It's why I keep asking the same questions over and over again, as if it would help me see something I hadn't before.

It's a pointless endeavor. I know all I needed to already. I was always a step ahead of the rest of them; it's what kept me alive after all these years. But for once I wish I wasn't, I wish for once I didn't have the answers. Because for once, I'm scared of them.

No, that's not true. I'm scared of what I can do with that knowledge. So I keep busy to distract myself from what has to be done. I've always been good with my hands, and there's at least a dozen criminals who at one time could have attested to that. Now? It's all I have left. Keep myself busy, or drive myself mad with the knowledge I hold.

But I was once the "World's Greatest Detective". As much as I want to, I can't push the questions far enough from my mind, or hide them behind thick enough walls. Somehow, they find their way past my defenses, waiting for me to close my eyes so they can haunt my dreams. So I busy my hands, and let my mind wander where it will in the vain hope that it will somehow ease the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm me.

* * *

It wasn't always like this. I'd never had friends before, never needed them. By day, there were the people I associated with out of necessity, and by night people couldn't get far enough away. But for whatever reason, I couldn't get _Them_ to leave me alone! For me, it was enough to work with them, lend my aid when it was needed, but they insisted that I join their company, both in and out of costume. _He_ was the worst of all of them. He'd constantly make a pest of himself, always the first to let his youth and inexperience show. Rarely did he stop long enough to think about the consequences of his actions before he rushed into a situation.

Yet, he still managed to astound me. Whatever doubts I had of his own brilliance would be wiped away as I would be nearly caught off guard by one of his ridiculous, but elaborate pranks. I think it was a goal of his, to get me to crack a smile.

In retrospect, I wish it was something he could have seen. Even if he would have succeed, he was already gone, hoping to outrun my retribution that was sure to follow.

But there are some things you can't outrun, and only the Man of Steel is faster than a speeding bullet.

We waited for him to get up, but his costume was the wrong shade of red.

There was nothing we could have done.

_**After all, how do you save the savior?**_

The funeral was a somber affair that the whole world seemed intent on joining. Thousands lingered outside the chapel's gates for hours, even after the procession had gone. This time, we were all there, watching as every last one of them paid their respects to their fallen hero. The worst was the group of children that passed by the casket. It took three caretakers to pry a little girl's fingers open to get her to release his hand. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt tears pour down my face, behind the cowl or not. Now, I couldn't stop them as we listened to her scream and plead for him to wake up.

Our memorial was no better.

Without him to lighten the mood, the abyss of space felt that much colder. No one spoke; no one looked at each other. How could we? So in silence we sat around a table with one empty chair. In the end, it was Shayera who couldn't stand the leering quiet.

"_**What do we do now?"**_

We tried for a while, to get our lives back to normal. And things did. That's what hurt the worst. The world hadn't forgotten him, it had simply moved on. We continued to go on missions, but the first was the hardest. I think it was because we could do it _without_him.

I stopped involving myself after that. I let Gotham slowly take more and more of me, until even my alter ego seemed to be a waste of my time. Maybe if I'd stayed, I would have been able to sway them. But I didn't, I was content to ignore all of them, even _Her_.

More than once, she came to me, trying to pull me out of the abyss I'd chosen for myself. I wish I'd been able to see she was hurting. The pain was just natural for me, something easy for me to rationalize and compartmentalize away. But she wasn't like me, she needed more than strong handed words that she would eventually get over it. She needed something I refused to give her. Maybe it would have saved both of us. Instead, I pushed her away, and she finally turned from me and looked elsewhere to mend what I had broken. But you can't truly fix anything that's been broken, it just calluses over. Somehow, I convinced myself it was what was best for her. It was a lie. Sometimes I think about what I could have done differently. How I could have stopped all of this before it ever began. Most of the time I don't. I'm far too cynical any more.

_**Where did we go wrong?**_

Clark tried too, for a while anyway. I should have known the Boy Scout would have taken it hard. He tried several times to get me to rejoin them, but my answer remained steadfastly the same. Gotham needed me, they didn't. Eventually, I would just be another funeral. Better to break now than later.

It too was a lie. I needed them far more than they needed me. Still, my answer stood firm. Damn him, he saw right through it too and kept right on trying. In the end, I had to use that damn rock he gave me all those years ago to get him to leave for good. He was never the same after that.

Alfred left soon after that, and Wayne dropped off the face of the Earth to leave the Bat to haunt the Manor, alone. There were times I wished it had been me rather than him buried in the ground. I was nearly dead anyway. I existed, but I didn't live. I funded Clark and the others, but I didn't associate with them. In every aspect of my life, I found a way to hide at its edges. I found the place between life and death that people had thought the Batman had spawned from years ago. What scared me? I was comfortable there. Beyond what the flashing lights of my computer could tell me, there was nothing else in the world I needed to know.

I should have never turned away.

_**Why did I let it come to this?**_

It wasn't that I didn't notice; I didn't want to. Gotham was my problem, they could have the rest of the world. By the time I finally opened my eyes again, our world had already changed. The criminals no longer fled in fear, but in terror for their very lives. With Wayne dead, the Bat had nothing to do but drive the scum of the city away and straight into the lion's jaws that waited for them beyond the city limits. I don't know why they stayed out of Gotham when they'd all but demolished every other law and rule we'd once sworn by.

Jails emptied, while the mental wards couldn't take the strain. Two black marks identified a criminal for the last time, before he was resigned to a life devoid of emotion or thought. I couldn't blame Clark though. He'd seen what my way had done for Gotham, and what it had done to me. No doubt he'd realized that if they'd only been so decisive sooner, then perhaps we would still have been seven instead of six.

But hindsight is 20-20, and even that knowledge doesn't make it right. But he was their leader, someone had to be after all. How could they ever go back to the way things were before when it would never again be the same?

Perhaps my isolation could be called a blessing. The light of justice had blinded them, but I lived in the darkness. Where they saw order, I saw fear. People we once protected, ran from us, hid their children and cowered at every shadow that passed overhead. I remember the flames that rose against the white paint of the stately building, the satisfaction in Clark's eyes even as I turned away from him in disgust.

_**When do the ends justify the means?**_

* * *

I tighten down the last bolt and step back, to face the final question that truly haunted my thoughts. A picture of us, all of us, sits on my desk and catches the light in a stunning way, making the smiles seem all the brighter. It's the only one I still have, and it reminds me of what we used to be. My screen flashes a scene with seven great heroes engaged in the kind of never-ending war we made obsolete years ago. But they were together, working towards the goal we took by force.

I feel my throat tighten as I watch them embrace what now only followed us in the shadows of what we used to be. They had what we lost, and we needed them to get it back. As I watched them, the question hit me as hard as Queen had before he was dragged away for the last time. I had hoped the hum of electricity would help drown out the memory, but I had no such luck.

I stride over to my desk and set the picture down on its face. I have to force myself to drop it, because I know it will be the last time I ever see them smile at me again. But I have work to do, and I press a finger to my ear and wait.

"Bruce?" The surprise in Clark's voice was genuine, and for a moment, he was the man I remembered and not the dictator he'd become.

But Ollie's voice was louder in my head than the one in my ear as he shouted above the chaos of the SWAT teams taking him away.

"_**Who guards the guardians, Bruce?"**_

"Clark," I say my voice stead as ever, halting my old friend's banter.

His voice stops abruptly, listening for what I have to say. I almost can't, but I have to. I knew I would from the start. I wish for once I didn't.

"I need you to get the others together."

But I couldn't hide from the answer to Ollie's question anymore.

"Why? Are you ok?"

Someone had to stop the Justice Lords.

"I have something you need to see."

I knew it would have to be me.

* * *

Gotc: For those of you expecting a happy ending, I warned you. For the rest of you, I'm sorry this seemed a little scattered. I was trying to write from inside Bats' head while at the same time elude to my thoughts on how the Lords went downhill.

Explanation time!

I don't think Batman was ever really a part of the things the Justice Lords did. He's too set in his ways, and I feel that bringing the League to his dimension was a part of his plan to stop them the whole time. Why else do you do something like that? He's not the type to do things "just because".

I also had to throw in the questions, which is what started the whole thought process in the first place. Who, what, where, when, why and how? Answer them all and you can solve any problem, and I felt they really added to Bruce's conflict here, since he already knew the answers.

Anyway, tell me what you think of this, and I'd really appreciate any feedback since this was a spur of the moment ficlet. I'm toying with the idea of making it more than a one-shot, but I'm waiting to hear what you guys think! Laters!


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